Heartbreaking Love Storys
After brushing my teeth, I sat at the table. He was eating breakfast with great relish, and we exchanged a smile. Seeing my favorite shrimp and broccoli stir-fry on the table made me happy. I drank a spoonful of rich soy milk with black sesame and honey, prepared by his mom. I envied him; he had such nutritious and plentiful breakfasts prepared for him every day.
Suddenly, his mom started losing her temper in the kitchen, scolding him. She said it was a waste to have such a son, that she was heartbroken because he didn’t listen to her, and that if it weren’t for his hard work every day, she wouldn’t care about him. She said she would call his dad and tell him not to come, and she would return to the Northeast. If we wanted to be together, we could, but she wouldn’t care anymore.
My mom had never lost her temper with me like that. I choked up, stirring my spoon in the bowl. Seeing him being scolded made me feel even worse. I nudged him and said, “Don’t respond. I’ll leave tomorrow; don’t argue with her.” The yelling from the kitchen continued. I added, “Maybe you should find some time today to take me back.” He nodded, and I put down my spoon, grabbed a tissue, and went back to my room. Tears fell. I had parents too, and I was a dutiful child.
On the balcony, I swallowed all my emotions and stopped crying. If I continued crying, it would put him in an even more difficult position. I was relieved not to become his wife; otherwise, I’d be in for a tough time.
He finished eating and came to comfort me, reminding me not to argue with his mom while he was at work. I smiled faintly and said, “There’s nothing to argue about with you, let alone your mom.” He was funny; I had no grounds to argue with his mom. We had already decided to part ways quietly. I requested that he stay out of my life and refrain from having business dealings with my company during my current job.
Previously, my friends and I believed that if a man truly loved you, his family would eventually agree no matter how much they opposed. Given this morning’s situation, I believed he had tried very hard. Besides, I was already deeply hurt in this long battle, and I had no strength left. I recalled a hurtful thing he once said: “If I could marry you, why would I drag it out until now?” Now, I was finally letting go.
Over the past few days, I experienced how hard he worked—no weekends, rarely getting off work on time. Thinking about how he managed to see me twice a week for the past two years despite his exhaustion made me realize how difficult it was. Every time he came back late after seeing me. The night I hurt my hand, he rushed to the hospital and stayed with me until after 1 a.m., taking care of me carefully. I felt touched only in retrospect. That night, he got home around 2 a.m.
The next day, I selfishly asked him to see me after work. He got angry, saying I didn’t understand or appreciate him. At the time, I felt wronged, but now I regret it. I understood that he had given as much as I had. We never mentioned the word “love” between us; now I felt it would be redundant to say it.
While I was packing, his mom came in and said, “Come and eat. I was just talking about my son; don’t take it to heart. Stay a few more days; there’s no rush to go back.” I smiled and said I understood. After eating, she called his dad, saying, “Don’t come over; I’m heading back.” The trigger was that after I got up and felt my legs were cold, her son brought me a small blanket.
Then she asked, “How can your legs be cold?” Her son responded impatiently, “Oh, just don’t worry about it.” The endless mother-in-law and daughter-in-law wars probably started like this: the mother painstakingly raised her son, only to see him care for and spoil another woman while speaking harshly to his own mother.
Seeing that she was still angry, I went to comfort her, telling her not to worry. I wouldn’t contact her son anymore and asked her to take care of her health, as she had heart and vascular problems and shouldn’t get angry easily. She felt better and said, “Then don’t contact him anymore.” Her insistence made me feel she was ruthless. I was already heartbroken, and she delivered a final blow.
Back in my room, he texted me, apologizing and worrying about my mood. I buried myself under the covers and cried until I felt like I was falling apart. If it were a ghost movie, I would have cried myself into ashes. I cried for an hour, so heartbroken that I almost fainted. My breathing became irregular, and I felt like I was about to pass out. It scared me, but I eventually calmed down.
I vowed never to cry like that again and never to shed tears for him. In front of everyone, I would pretend nothing had happened and continue to smile, leaving everything to time to heal. I got used to hiding my sadness deep inside, away from anyone’s touch. That’s why I didn’t seek comfort from friends; they understood and quietly supported me.
He once said, “Maybe after a few days with you, she will like you.” In the end, no matter how well I behaved, I couldn’t eliminate her prejudice. She wasn’t satisfied with my family, my height, and now I had a scar on my hand. These were things I couldn’t choose or change, nor did I want to.
I decided to leave the next day and bid him a proper farewell. When I told his mom, she seemed relieved, as if this lessened her guilt. When she saw me taking a book, she said, “Don’t read; rest well.” I replied softly and went back to my room. She probably knew I had cried; my eyes hurt so much that I couldn’t read.
Three years of love, letting go was easier said than done. I felt shattered. Breaking up with Jun was clear because he wasn’t suitable for marriage, so there were no regrets. But Yu was the kind of man I wanted to marry—big hands, warm and reassuring.
But fate ended here.
I said, “If there’s a next life, I’ll switch roles with you and torment you.” But then I thought, if I were a man, I probably wouldn’t have the heart to hurt such a kind girl. When he reached out his hand to make a pinky promise, I thought, if there’s a next life, let’s not meet again.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
